In Darkness We Must Abide (3 page)

“Why?” Alisha asked.

“Why did she poison you?”

“Yes.”

“Morgan had to weaken you to get you out of the mansion without you causing a fuss before Aeron arrived.”

“That woman killed her,” Alisha whispered, pressing her very warm hands to her flushed face. “Why?”

Dexios turned off the pumps and started to cover the inflated beds with sheets and blankets. “Morgan gave her life so that you could live. It had to appear that you killed her escaping.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Aeron can’t suspect Leto. He would have noticed that Morgan was a werewolf and that would have cast doubt on Leto.”

“But why save me?” Alisha was completely bewildered.

“To impress your sister.”

“Why?”

Nodding, Dexios finished his task. Still crouched, he rested his elbows on his knees and viewed her through the darkness. “Your sister is the most important person in this world.”

Maybe the werewolf’s blood wasn't working. Alisha started to not be so muddled. “Because of our bloodline? Because of what we are?”

“You’re a strong witch, but your sister is pure power. Unrecognized power, but it’s there waiting to be born.”

“I’m confused,” Alisha wailed, feeling close to tears all at once.

“Your sister is the fulfillment of prophecy. Thousands of years ago, the spells were cast to create her.”

“She’s just my little Snow Pea,” Alisha protested.

“No, she’s not.” Dexios joined her on the bench, stretching out his long legs and folding his arms. “Your sister was created for Aeron the White and Terrible, the vampire who is now purging the world of all the creatures he considers undesirable in preparation for his reign.”

“The albino warrior…” Alisha whispered, remembering the painting that had disturbed her so much.

“He murdered your mother to prevent her from intruding on his plans to take Vanora when the time was right.”

Vision blurring from tears, Alisha nodded. “He killed her with a dagger. I painted it. But why does he want my sister?”

“Long, long ago, an oracle foretold your sister’s birth and her role in Aeron’s destiny. He believes that she is the future mother of a new race of vampires.” Dexios' words sounded preposterous, yet his expression was dour.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps, but that is what he believes.”

“So why is your mother-”

“Leto,” Dexios interjected.

“Why is Leto helping me?”

“Because she needs Vanora just as much as Aeron. She believes that saving you will soften your sister’s anger and heart in regards to Leto.”

“I’m a pawn.” The thought was almost insulting, but she could see the logic behind it. “So Leto saves me and Vanora does what? Side with her against Aeron?”

“Then Vanora helps Leto realize her destiny while fulfilling her own.”

“By becoming the mother of a new vampire race?” Alisha twisted about on the bench to stare at Dexios in horror.

Shaking his head, Dexios said, “No, in destroying Aeron. None can kill him. Not even Leto. She suspects that Vanora is the only one who actually can.”

A bit woozy, Alisha gripped her head with her hands. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“You’re still recovering and the sun will rise soon. Lay down. Sleep. Tomorrow night we’ll seek out Vanora.”

“But…how can I trust you?” Alisha protested as Dexios pulled her upright and guided her to the beds.

With shrug, Dexios answered, “How can you not?”

“Easily,” Alisha assured him.

“If we wanted you dead, you would be, Alisha. We need you to find Vanora so Leto can persuade her to help her defeat Aeron.”

“Vanora will not need persuading. Trust me.” Despite the touch of belligerence in her tone, Alisha allowed Dexios to help her into the bed he’d created for her. It was not very comfortable, but it was better than a coffin. Even though she was a vampire, sleeping in a mausoleum was not an experience she welcomed.

Dexios lay on top of the covers of his bed and pulled a bottle of water out of the bag at his side. “No, that’s where you are wrong. The magic that set this in motion is strong. Vanora was created for Aeron. She is meant to be his. Everything within her will want him.”

“She loves someone else. That’s not going to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter. A bit of Aeron’s very soul was used in the spell.” Dexios took a long swallow of water, then sighed. “What you don’t understand is that bonds of love, friendship, and family pale in comparison to what she will feel when she’s near Aeron. That’s what you will need to help Leto fight against.”

Alisha curled beneath the soft covers and reflected on his words. “My paintings were trying to tell me this, weren’t they? My magic was trying to warn me, and I couldn’t decipher the message.”

“Even the most powerful oracles can be confounded by their visions.”

Pressing her wet face into the pillow, misery engulfed Alisha. If only she hadn’t failed to understand what her powers had been attempting to tell her. The image of Vanora as the Queen of the Night haunted her. Her sister’s face had been so cruel. “I painted so many things that never made any sense.”

“Perhaps because you were never told the secrets of the vampire race and your own heritage.” Dexios took another swallow of water, then started to eat chunks of jerky.

“Then tell me,” Alisha demanded. “Tell me so I do understand.”

For several minutes, Dexios was silent as he ate, then finally he finished and tossed the empty water bottle into the bag. Rolling over onto his side, his eyes glinted like a wolf’s. “Once I tell the tale, nothing in your world will ever be the same again.”

“My world is in ruins,” Alisha said bitterly. “Nothing you say can make it worse.”

Exhaling, Dexios tilted his face to gaze up at the ceiling. “Long ago, an angel loved a witch…”

Vanora impatiently watched the agonizingly slow process of her purchases being tossed into a blue cloth shopping bag by the distracted female cashier. The clear latex gloves on the woman’s hands were foggy with moisture and for a split second, Vanora saw the other world where the three women poured water on hot coals, filling the air with steam. Closing her eyes, Vanora concentrated on the reality surrounding her physical body, not her spirit.

When she lifted her eyes, the cashier was still distracted by the ongoing conversation with the overnight manager. It took a few seconds of eavesdropping for Vanora to realize they were discussing the fires raging throughout Houston.

“Terrorists are doing it,” the manager said with confidence, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. Her salt and pepper hair was scraped back from her face into a tight bun.

“I heard it was devil worshippers,” the cashier replied. Light brown hair in a short ponytail, pale face free of makeup, wearing rimless glasses, and just enough extra weight to give her a doughy appearance, she had a look that made it difficult to discern her age.

Lightly tapping her debit card against the edge of the card reader, Vanora waited. Fearing her magic might manifest again, Vanora’s hands were tucked into gloves. It had taken her nearly ten minutes of hard concentration to get them to stop glowing. Anxious to get to Sheila and the others before the sun rose, Vanora fought to contain her temper. Yet, it was difficult because she could feel the pleasure the cashier gained from making Vanora wait.

…snobby, rich bitch…

The words hissed through her mind in the cashier’s voice.

…thinks she’s so much better…

For a second, Vanora entertained the idea that she was imagining the venomous voice, but then she saw the cashier’s eyes flick toward her and the serpentine smile on her lips.

…what if the kids are scared…the fires are so close to the house…

It was the manager she now heard.

Vanora shivered in her coat as she struggled to maintain her composure. Was this yet another manifestation of her power? Reading minds?

At last, the cashier totaled Vanora’s purchases and waited for Vanora to finish at the card reader. Tapping in her pin code, Vanora raised her gaze to meet the cashier’s. Catching herself before she could gasp, Vanora saw reptilian eyes staring at her from behind the woman’s glasses. The cashier’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. Vanora finished her end of the transaction and hastily shoved her card in her wallet. The cashier unhurriedly tore the receipt off the printer while scrutinizing Vanora.

“Odd shopping list,” the cashier said, seeming to finally take note of what Vanora had bought.

The blue bags were stuffed with energy bars, charcoal, salt, bottled water, a single white sheet, and a cast iron Dutch oven. Vanora heaved them into her cart, ignoring the woman. As she hurried out of the store, she could feel the woman’s gaze following her.

What the hell was she?

Vanora was almost to Greg’s car when he jogged up looking rather pleased with himself and a little less ragged around the edges.

“Already?” Vanora couldn’t hide her disgust.

“I’m tough to resist.” Greg grabbed the bags and tossed them into the back of the truck. The impact resounded across the parking lot.

“Where? Who?” Regarding the darkened areas surrounding the shopping complex, Vanora shuddered.

“A hot little Latina with a big, round ass on her way into work. Against the wall over there. It was great!”

“Ugh!” Vanora shuddered at the thought.

“Take that, Leah!” Greg flipped off the store, then climbed behind the wheel while Vanora settled into the passenger seat.

Yanking the door shut, Vanora said, “Leah doesn’t sound like a Latina name.”

“Oh, no. The girl’s name was Marisol. Leah is the bitch demon who rules over that Walmart. She feeds off the misery of her co-workers and the shoppers.”

“Great. Another demon. I should have known. Her eyes were…”

The incubus was shifting the truck into gear, but at her word,s he hesitated. “You could see what she was?”

“Her eyes were like a reptile,” Vanora answered.

“Oh, wow. You saw through her disguise! There may be hope for you yet, Snow White!”

“Greg!”

“It’s a compliment!” The demon drove the pickup toward the entrance on the far side of the parking lot. “Snow White’s a princess. All girls want to be a princess.”

“I never wanted to be a princess.”

“Sure, you did,” he said sarcastically.

“Seriously, I didn’t. They were always so…pathetic. Waiting for someone to rescue them. Or changing themselves to make someone love them.” She was actually lying. A good portion of her childhood had been spent wishing she could change her appearance in hopes that someday some cute boy would think she was pretty and love her. She had that much in common with the fairytale princesses.

“So you wanted to be the knight in shining armor?”

“Actually, I kinda wanted to be Maleficent. That way I could turn into a dragon and no one would pick on me.” That was the truth and she grinned at the memory.

Greg wickedly chuckled. “There’s hope for you yet, Dark Vanora.”

His words vividly reminded her of the painting Alisha had created of Vanora as the Queen of the Night. She shuddered. “Anyway, Greg, you knew there was a demon in the store and you still let me go in?”

“There are demons everywhere, cupcake.”

“But what if…” Vanora hesitated. “I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

“Not everyone in this world is out to get you. But, if she had figured out you’re a witch that could’ve been an issue. Your kind is supposed to be virtually extinct thanks to the ivory asshole.”

“What could she have done? To me?” Vanora dreaded the answer.

“Though she’s one of the nastiest demons you’ll ever meet, she probably would have run away. Your kind can vanquish us. You’re dangerous.”

This answer pleased her though it was a bit unsettling.

“Besides, if she did figure out you’re a witch, I bet she’s shitting bricks right now, which is awesome. I love pissing her off every chance I get. She hates it when I feed off her people. Stupid ol’ bitch. I really fuckin’ hate her.”

“Why? Because she does what you do?”

“You take that back,” Greg growled.

Vanora gave him a surprised look. “Why?”

“I bring pleasure to the women I feed off of. That demon-bitch inspires misery into her prey so she can slurp it up.”

“And you don’t cause misery? Your girlfriends all died tonight.”

Returning the pickup to the road, Greg frowned at the darkened road through the windshield. “Okay, so usually my affairs end with death and destruction, but it’s not my fault. My girls just have difficulty letting go. Because, ya know, I’m just that good.”

“Because you’re using magic on them!”

“So do vampires! How do you think your Spanish stud gets his victims?”

The thought of Armando hurt so much tears instantly sprung to her eyes.

“Yeah, he’s all handsome, charismatic, and charming, but he’s putting the big ol’ vampire mojo on those victims to get them to pony up the old red wine. So how is he better than me? And don’t think he hasn’t killed people or caused a shit-ton of misery in his day! I’m not the only monster around here. But at least I don’t deliberately fuck up people so I can feed on their despair. Leah treats Marisol like shit. I just gave Marisol something to grin about. I’m the good guy here.”